


starlight and witch’s brew

by hubblestars



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 06:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hubblestars/pseuds/hubblestars
Summary: Julie is struggling to fit in, but Dimity helps her belong (in more ways than one).





	starlight and witch’s brew

**Author's Note:**

> absjsjd the worst witch is back and my baby gay heart is happy. I would die for this ship <3

It's been two months and Julie has yet to settle in as a teacher at Cackles Academy. She ponders this as she lies awake well into the night, searching the gaps in the old ceiling as if they have an answer for her. Her hair, curly and frizzy, spills around her pillow. A bird’s nest, Hecate had called it one afternoon, scorn etched across her face. There are soft creases in Julie’s face - in her cheeks, beneath her mouth - that weren’t there before; her eyebags are a little deeper, a little darker. Many a time she has cried in the back of the art room, hiding her hands behind her fingers that were splashed red and green and yellow with paint. _It’s all too much,_ Julie thinks, sighing, _I’m not cut out for this._

There’s a sharp knock at the door - a calculated three raps, precise and alert. Julie jumps in surprise and falls from the bed with a puffed laugh.

When she opens the old, rickety door, Julie isn’t expecting Dimity Drill to be standing in her doorway, smiling and sheepish. There’s something infectious about Dimity’s grin: the way her eyes crinkle at the edges, the way she shows her teeth, the way her cheeks darken just a little. Julie can’t help but smile back.

There’s always a twinkle in Dimity’s eye and a spring to her step that never fails to make Julie laugh, never stops helping Julie feel welcome and at home in the huge, daunting Academy. Even from the start, Dimity had been nothing but lovely to her. She’d wrapped Julie up in a tight, warm hug on her first day; she’d stuck reassuring post it notes on Julie’s door that said positive things like _you’ve got this! - D;_ she’d taken Julie for a long walks on the grounds, taking her to all of the beautiful, hidden places that Hecate had purposefully missed out on her tour of the castle.

And now here Dimity is, waving a bottle of witch’s brew around and smiling.  It’s enough to make Julie warm all over, her breath lost somewhere in her throat.

“Fancy a nightcap, Miss Hubble?” She says, her voice almost teasing. Julie’s never seen Dimity out of her Cackles kit before; her hair is loose, curling soft and dark around her shoulders, and her dressing gown is a thick black and fluffy enough that Julie has the inexplicable urge to wrap herself in it.

“I’d love one, Miss Drill.” Julie returns, unable to stop her cheeks from rising in a wide, glittering smile. She thinks she sees something falter in Dimity’s eyes, like her world has lost it’s balance for a moment.

“Follow me.” Dimity laughs.

She pulls Julie through the castle by her wrist. Julie forgets she’s in her pug pyjamas, and that her hair is in a loose bun, and that the castle is full of magic and mischief; she forgets the stress of the working day, the angry clench of Mildred’s jaw, the fear of what might happen tomorrow.

The dusk is perfect; Julie can feel the darkness all around her, in the windows and the long, neverending corridors. She’d always been able to paint better in the moonlight. She can feel _everything -_ the rough curve of Dimity’s fingers around her wrist, the way the breeze slips under the doors and makes her shiver, the twists and turns of the Academy. Julie wants to paint this scene. She wants to paint the browns of Cackles, the blacks of Dimity’s hair, the soft, curved shape of her back.

Then suddenly, they stop, and the loss of Dimity’s fingers around her wrist hits Julie suddenly. Dimity fumbles with a pair of keys, laughing about something as she opens a door hidden in the crooks of a Cackles corridor. Julie watches her with her heart in her throat and thinks that she’s never seen a woman so full of spirit, so _colourful._ Her face is made for the canvas, her skin for the paintbrush.

“I like to hide up here when this place gets too much.” Dimity pulls a face, but she looks nervous, fiddling with the loose thread on her dressing gown. Julie smiles in reassurance.

“Don’t leave me waiting, then.”

Julie follows Dimity up spiralling stairs - they go on for what seems like hours, until Julie feels dizzy. Dimity turns once to grin back at her, a sense of adventure lighting up her features, and Julie is so dumbstruck, so _whipped,_ that she almost falls down the stairs (which is a perfectly normal response to your colleague smiling at you, of course).

“Get it together, Hubble.” Julie mutters to herself.

But before Julie can blink, the steps have finished, and suddenly they’re pushing through a small door and out into the night. They’re on the top of the highest tower, so high that Julie can see for miles and miles. The night is so clear, the air fresh and new. Then Julie looks up and forgets her train of thought completely.

There are a stars twinkling above her head; a million spots of gold, just out of reach. The night sky is so glorious enough that Julie doesn’t even consider painting it, though the image will be forever carved into her mind. She’d never seen stars like this back home.

“It’s so beautiful.” Julie breathes.

“Yeah.” Dimity nudges their shoulders together. “Beautiful.”

But when Julie turns her head away from the stars, Dimity isn’t looking up; she’s gazing straight at Julie, her face more serious than Julie has ever seen it. Her eyes, dark and unreadable, seem to have stars inside of the irises, flickering and burning. Julie wishes she didn’t find Dimity so beautiful - wishes the dips of her skin, the little patches and wrinkles, weren’t so effortlessly charming. She’d spent every minute since coming to this academy trying very, very hard not to jump her bones for the sake of professionalism, and, you know,  her dignity.

They look at each other for a moment until Dimity coughs and flushes.

“Sit down.” Dimity says, shakily, “Before the brew gets cold, I mean.”

Half an hour later and there’s an ease between them that Julie hasn’t felt with anyone before; a  steady, warm conversation, full of Dimity’s loud, charming laughter. They’re leaning against the tower, their knees almost touching, passing the bottle between them. After the third swig Julie realises with a start that her mouth is in the same place Dimity’s had been only seconds before, and the realisation almost makes her squeak in surprise.

After a while, the chill starts seeping through Julie’s pyjamas; she shivers.

“Move in closer, lady.” Dimity laughs. “You’ll freeze to death.”

If Julie fits perfectly against Dimity’s side, if the warmth of her dressing gown makes Julie feel soft and dizzy, then she doesn’t mention it. She just sighs in content, lets the buzz of alcohol warm her stomach, and leans closer.

“Hey,” Dimity says, quietly.. It’s jarring to see her serious, but Julie had seen Dimity’s sincerity tonight; she wonders how many sides of Dimity she hasn’t met yet. Julie thinks with surprise that she wants to see all of them. Strict and sad and angry and cheerful and scared. All of them beautiful. “It won’t be so tough here forever, I promise. Hecate bullied me for _months._ I know it’s hard, but… we all want you here. And if you ever want flying lessons, you know who to call.”

“Thank you.” Julie sighs, and feels some pressure loosen from her shoulders. “It should be enough to do what I love and see Mildred every day, but I… I don’t think I’ll ever belong here.”

Dimity nudges her, and Julie sees resolve in her face, determination hard in her features.

“Hey. We’re _lucky_ to have you. You’re funny, and talented, and you’re a great teacher. You’re special. The kids will get used to you, and Hecate will find a new target. Plus, I… I can’t imagine you anywhere else.”

“What a nice thing to say.” Julie says, weakly. She flushes, helpless in the face of Dimity’s blinding smile.

“What are friends for, eh?”

Julie doesn’t think she’s ever felt like this before. With Mildred’s father, it had been lovely, Julie supposes. But it hadn’t been enough; there had been no spark, no warmth. When Julie spots Dimitry out on the grounds from a window, or meets her eyes across the staff room, she feels more in those small seconds than she had in her entire failed relationships with men.

“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t barged in.” Julie says, and tucks a stray lock of her behind her ear. She’d meant it as a joke, but the words come out soft and shaky.

“It’s no problem, Hubble.”

They’re close enough that Dimity’s breath drifts against Julie’s mouth when she speaks - close enough that Julie could just lean in, if she were brave enough, if the world wasn’t tilting on it’s axis. Oh, what was she _doing?_ It’s a little late in life to be sneaking up magical towers and kissing her colleagues, isn’t it? What would Mildred say? Julie, tipsy and mad with longing, half expected Hecate to apparate on the tower and call them to Miss Cackles office for _inappropriate behaviour._

“Call me Julie.”

“Julie.” Dimity breathes. Her name sounds gentle and precious on Dimity’s tongue, and Julie is unaware of anything except the curve of Dimity’s mouth, lit by the starlight, and the way their sides are pressed together.

And then Dimity grabs her by the cheeks and kisses her, just like that, as if Julie hadn’t spent the last month as a terrified, confused, flustered mess. She tastes like cinnamon and witch’s brew, her hair thick and soft when Julie tangles her hands in it. _God,_ she’s never felt so at home, and so alive; if Julie were to paint the kiss (Dimity’s fingers trembling where they’re clutching her face, the clash of their mouths, the faint murmur Julie makes in the back of her throat) it would be in striking, long strokes of red-

Then Dimity accidentally bites Julie’s tongue and they pull away in a fit of giggles. It’s ridiculous. It’s completely, utterly charming.

“Oops?” Dimity says, and it sets them off again. They fall into each other, laughing so hard that tears stream down their faces, and Julie decides that if she was going to fall for anyone, if she was going to bring someone new into Mildred’s life and disrupt the peace, it would be Dimity.

Julie may never fit in at Cackles; she might never belong among the magical walls, would probably always be subject of hard gazes and harsh laughter. But that’s okay. That’s _perfect._ Because she fits just right into Dimity Drill’s arms.


End file.
